


Sex On the Beach

by TheLittleSongbird



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bar Regular Keith, Bartender AU, Cocktails as Euphemisms, Inappropriate Use of Alcohol, Jealous Shiro (Voltron), M/M, Mutual Pining, Sheithlentines 2019, bartender Shiro, just in a making gross cocktails to gross out your crush's dates way, not in a dirty way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 10:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleSongbird/pseuds/TheLittleSongbird
Summary: Shiro discovered that Keith Kogane was a menace the moment he walked into Bar Atlas, slapped a twenty on the bar top and ordered a Suck, Bang, and Blow.Written for @yellowbayard on Twitter for the Sheithlentines Exchange! She asked for Bartender Shiro with Keith as his regular.





	Sex On the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Sheithlentines, @yellowbayard! I'm so sorry that it's late, but I hope you enjoy what I came up with using your prompt. It ended up being A LOT longer than I intended, but I needed to get the first part out before the deadline, but I will be posting the second part soon!  
> I used to work as a bartender, so it was really fun to get to dig back into my memory for some of these drinks!

Shiro discovered that Keith Kogane was a menace the moment he walked into Bar Atlas, slapped a twenty on the bar top and ordered a Suck, Bang, and Blow.

It took several seconds to get his brain functioning again properly, and nearly a full minute to politely tell the dark-haired stranger that Bar Atlas didn’t serve that particular drink, and would he maybe like to take a look at the cocktail menu to see what their specials were? 

The man frowned at him, his eyes sharp and unyielding. Shiro couldn’t place the color in the dim light of the bar. “I don’t want some fancy…” he looked down at the menu and squinted his eyes, “ _Quintessence Spritzer_. I want a Suck, Bang, and Blow. And if this joint can’t make me the drink I want, I’ll go find somewhere else to spend my money.” He crossed his arms with a sense of finality, daring Shiro to cave.

Shiro shook his head and pulled out his phone, quickly tapping on it to show the screen to the man in front of him. “This is the recipe for a Suck, Bang, and Blow. My bar is well stocked, but even _I_ don’t have a bottle of Goldschlager or Hypnotiq on hand. And I guarantee you that nobody else does either, but you are more than welcome to try your luck somewhere else.” Tucking his phone back into his pocket, Shiro busied himself with cleaning a glass from his rack, only glancing back up when the man moved to sit at one of the bar stools, casually dragging the cocktail menu towards him with a pout.

He brushed his bangs out of his eyes and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. And despite his woefully unimpressive attempt before, Shiro had to hand it to the guy – he did make looking at a menu seem really _really_ cool. He lifted his gaze up from behind his unruly fringe. “How’s the Red Lion taste? Any good?”

Shiro grinned. “It’s an acquired taste. Not everyone can handle it, to be honest.” He rolled his sleeves up to the arm garters on his shirt and rinsed his cocktail shaker out, already anticipating the response from the stranger.

Indigo eyes narrowed. “Try me.”

 

\+ + +

 

Keith becomes a staple at Bar Atlas after his first whirlwind appearance. He would burst in like a tornado, demanding the flashiest, filthiest sounding drink possible, and when Shiro would sadly remind him that no, they don’t have any blueberry schnapps to make a Bald Pussy-- and also why would you even ask for something like that-- Keith would pout, sit on his regular stool, and order his standard Red Lion. It kept Shiro’s work shift entertaining, to say the least.

It helped that Keith was by far the hottest guy to grace his bar. But Shiro might be biased on that front.

He also wasn’t entirely sure whether Keith’s suggestive drink orders were his attempts at embarrassing Shiro or flirting with him. Shiro begged for the latter but never asked. He didn’t want to ruin whatever _this_ was between the two of them.

And then Keith brings his first date to Bar Atlas.

The guy that follows Keith into the bar is tall, with long platinum hair and a pointed face, a swirling tattoo peeking from beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves. There’s a regal air about him -- as well as a possessive one, if the way he guides Keith through the bar with his hand firmly planted on the small of his back is anything to go by. Keith catches Shiro’s eye from across the bar and waves at him. His date follows his line of sight, noticing Shiro behind the bar and smirking as he leans in towards Keith and whispers something into his ear. Shiro can see Keith flush from where he stands behind the bar, and his stomach lurches. He turns back to the bar and forces himself to look away from the couple as they find a booth to sit at.

Shiro’s not jealous.

He doesn’t have a reason to be, after all. Sure, Keith and him joke whenever he happens to be working. Sure, Shiro had shown Keith pictures of his cat in exchange for pictures of Keith’s dog Kosmo (who he refused to name himself until one of his friends intervened). Sure, Keith gets that dark, hooded look in his eyes when he orders some sexually-charged drink.

It doesn’t mean there’s anything between them. They hardly know anything about each other. Whatever intimate, personal details that Keith is offering up are for his date to learn, not Shiro. It doesn’t make him jealous. Even if Keith’s date is currently tucking the loose strands of Keith’s hair away from his face to look deeper into his stormy eyes. Shiro’s not jealous. He refuses to be jealous.

“Looks like someone’s jealous.”

Shiro turns to his fellow bartender, Matt, who’s following Shiro’s line of sight over to Keith and his date. Shiro busies himself with tapping a new keg to distract his mind and ignore the gutted feeling in his stomach. “I’m not jealous.”

“Okay, sure. Like you haven’t been mooning over Broody McBroodster for weeks now. And now that’s he’s gotten a new piece of ass, you look like a kicked puppy.”

“His name is Keith." 

Matt snorts. “Right. Keith _Shirogane_ , right?” He wiggles his eyebrows. Shiro can feel the flush rising in his cheeks.

“Matt, _please._ You’re embarrassing me.”

A new voice rises clear over the din of the bar. “You want me to kick his ass for you?”

Shiro freezes. He can feel indigo eyes burning bright from his peripherals, and he sends up a single prayer to anyone listening that Keith didn’t just overhear Matt’s negging. Shiro slowly turns to meet Keith’s gaze, the younger man leaning against the bar top, a smirk on his face 

He looks over Keith’s shoulder to the booth where his date is still sitting, scrolling through his phone. Shiro nods towards him. “Friend?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Date.”

“Oh.” Shiro tries to not let his disappointment show.

“Yeah,” Keith drags his finger through a puddle of condensation on the bar top before looking up through his bangs. He sighs heavily. “Look… my friend’s kinda set me up with him.”

“Oh?” _Oh?_

“Yeah, they think I’m hopelessly single or something so they convinced him to like… go on a blind date with me.” Keith’s ears are red. Shiro shouldn’t think they’re as endearing as he does.

Matt elbows him in the back as he passes behind Shiro to the other end of the bar. Shiro clears his throat.

“And… how does that make you feel?” Shiro tries, and internally cringes. The last thing Keith needs is a bartender attempting to be his therapist.

But Keith simply rolls his eyes. “I mean, he’s not really my type. At all. I figured suggesting this place as a date spot would help. At least I’d have an out, right?” He looks up to Shiro hopefully. Warmth rises in Shiro’s chest. Keith asked to come to Bar Atlas for _him_. Keith trusts him to keep him safe, to step in if anything goes wrong. Keith wants an _out._

“Y-yeah. Of course. Do you need an out now? Are you doing okay?” Shiro leans forward and into Keith’s space, keeping his voice low as he searches his face for any warning signs or cries of help. _Do you need me to protect you?_

Keith smiles and waves him off. “Don’t worry, I can handle Lotor myself. But do you think you could like… whip up something special for him? Like, I don’t know, add extra Vermouth to his martini or some shit like that? Just to kinda turn him off.”

A lightbulb goes off. “Yeah, I can do that.”

He turns to the bar and grabs a shot glass, a spoon, and a bottle of Bailey’s from the back wall. He pulls his bottle of lime juice from the well and pours half a shot. Balancing the spoon over the shot glass, he slowly pours the Bailey’s over the spoon to trickle slowly into the shot glass, a layer forming over the lime juice. Keith leans down so the glass is at eye level and watches intently as Shiro pours the shot of green and cream-colored liquid. Shiro carefully places the glass on the bar top and pushes it towards the edge.

Keith eyes it warily. “What is it?”

Shiro smirks. “A surprise. Don’t let him shoot it. He’s gotta keep it in his mouth for a couple seconds for it to work.”

“O…kay?” Keith’s eyebrows shoot up further towards his hairline.

“What about you? A Red Lion, I’m guessing?” Shiro wipes down his station and throws the spoon into the sink, satisfied with his work.

Keith shrugs. “Well, I was kinda in the mood for a Slow Comfortable Screw, but I know you’re not really into that sort of drink.” He eyes Shiro, his sharp eyes set in a challenge. He knows Shiro’s going to push him towards a drink on the menu.

But Shiro doesn’t want to back down this time.

“Sure, I can do that.” He turns back towards the wall, grabbing a bottle of sloe gin, Southern Comfort, and Absolut. Holding the three bottles between his two hands, he pours a four-count into a high ball of ice and tops the drink off with orange juice. He throws a cherry on top and pushes it towards Keith. “Don’t get too comfortable. Your date’s not gonna last long after that shot.”

 Keith takes both drinks and smiles at Shiro. “I’m counting on it. Thanks, man.”

And with a wink, Keith shuffles back over to his booth where Lotor is waiting. He smiles up at Keith as he takes the shot from him, and while Shiro can’t hear what’s being said, he watches as they cheers each other.

Matt sidles up beside Shiro again, his grin mischievous. “Did my eyes deceive me, or did you just pour him a Cement Mixer?”

“Yup.” Shiro smiles as he watches Lotor drink the shot.

The effect is almost instantaneous, and Shiro has never felt more malicious pleasure than in that moment. Lotor’s face transforms from curious to mortified to disgusted in two seconds flat, his cheeks puffing out to keep from swallowing the atrocity. He looks around frantically for somewhere to wretch, and opts for his napkin, trying to discreetly spit out the congealed mess.

Shiro can see Keith biting his lip and trying not to lose his composure, quietly laughing to himself. As Lotor quickly rises to find the bathroom, Keith finds Shiro’s eyes across the room, his eyes watering from laughing so hard.

He raises his glass in salute, and Shiro feels his heart soar.

Matt rolls his eyes. “You’re hopeless, man.”

 

\+ + +

 

Shiro’s willing to admit he’s fallen in love with Keith. Or at least, he’s willing to admit he has a very intense, very deep crush on Keith.

He’s like no one that Shiro’s ever met before – wild and fierce, ready with a sharp word at any moment. He’s uncompromising, with a fire in his eyes. He’s the kind of guy that would eat Shiro alive if given the choice, as dangerous as he is beautiful. 

And Shiro is hopelessly attracted to him. The only thing standing in the way of Shiro taking the next step and asking Keith on a date is that Keith keeps bringing his dates to Atlas.

So in a completely reasonable and not at all petty move, Shiro starts buying new bottles and ingredients for Keith’s dates. 

The first guy Keith brings is burly and kind, and Shiro feels a little bad for the Zombie Brain he sends his way alongside the Buttery Nipple that Keith ordered. He figures the palatable taste of peach schnapps, crème de menthe, and grenadine helps with the terrible texture of adding Bailey’s into the mix. And while Keith’s date face pinches in disgust at the shot, he still tips Shiro and makes a suggestion on what flavor combinations may work better next time. He’s too nice for Shiro to be jealous over, and when he catches the knowing smile that Keith sends his way, he can’t help but feel like he just won a small victory.

The next date is tall and loud, talking Keith’s ear off and joking about how horribly single he is. Shiro sees the tired look on Keith’s face, and the number of times he rolls his eyes at the guy, and a pang of sympathy floods through Shiro’s vein. He opens the jar of mayonnaise he brought from home and spoons a dollop of mayo into a rocks glass of Jaeger, sending it over with his regards to Keith’s date. Matt shakes his head in sympathy as the guy cautiously tips the drink back, only to spit it out immediately, with no regards for where the concoction sprays. Keith sputters and laughs, covering his face in disgust. 

It goes like this for a while – Shiro researches the most disgusting drinks that he can make and ensures that every guy that follows Keith into Bar Atlas receives them. Keith never calls him out about purposely sabotaging his dates, and by the coy smiles that greets him at the bar, Shiro almost thinks that Keith’s enjoying himself. Shiro’s loving it. They’ve been dancing around each other for so long, leaving the bodies of guys trying to get in Keith’s pants in their wake, and Shiro can’t get enough of it.

The last date Keith brings to Atlas is different because Shiro can tell Keith is actually _into him_. His name is James, and from what he can overhear from their conversation, he’s training to be a commercial pilot. Keith’s eyes light up in interest, and Shiro can feel the waves of jealously roiling in his stomach. How is it that _this_ guy is the one that catches Keith’s attention? Commercial Pilot James, with the perfect hair and two working arms. 

Keith laughs at some joke James is making across the bar. Shiro feels the fingers of his prosthetic tightening on the cocktail shaker. It’s not fair. _He_ was supposed to be the one to make Keith laugh like that, bright and carefree. Not James. Shiro. 

There’s a dull sound of aluminum being scraped across the bar top. Shiro looks over to Matt, only to see him pointedly looking _away_ from whatever he slid across the counter. In front of Shiro is a shallow tin can. He picks it up and looks at the label, his brows furrowing at the “Chicken of the Sea” label around the can.

“Matt?” Shiro holds up the can for him to see, a single eyebrow raised in question.

Matt picks up a clean glass and begins to dry it, ignoring the look Shiro’s sending his way. He turns back towards the wall, stacking the glass with the others, and looks over to Keith and James out of the corner of his eye. “Remember in college when we went to that one frat party and got hazed?”

Shiro shrugs. “Sure. But what does that have to do with…”

“Listen, I think it’s a stupid fucking name for a drink, but you can’t deny it’s really effective for pissing people off.”

“I don’t follow.”

Matt rolls his eyes and grabs a bottle of tequila off the wall, placing it next to the can of tuna. He opens the cabinet underneath the bar and pulls out a bottle of hot sauce. He gives Shiro a look of complete boredom and simply says, “Hot Mexican Hooker,” and turns back towards cleaning more glasses in the sink.

Oh.

_Oh._

Shiro looks down at the tuna can waiting on the counter. Tequila, hot sauce, and tuna juice. He had a Hot Mexican Hooker once in college and it effectively ended his night early and left him hugging a toilet bowl into the early hours of morning. The drink is practically lethal. He glances back towards the booth where Keith is sitting, smiling at James over the rim of his glass. Smiling in the way Shiro wished would be pointed towards him, languid and easy. Of all the dates Keith had brought to Bar Atlas, he’d never seen him so relaxed and comfortable.

With a sigh, Shiro grabs the tuna can and places it back down behind the bar. 

“Uhh… what are you doing there, bud?” Matt leans against the counter and crosses his arms, a look of judgment on his face. Shiro shakes his head.

“I can’t sabotage Keith’s date. Not this time,” he laments, shuffling around Matt to put the hot sauce and tequila back where they belong.

“What do you mean? What makes this time any different from the last like… twelve times you’ve done it?” 

“I don’t know,” Shiro shrugs in defeat, “Keith just… he looks really happy over there, Matt. Why should I get in the way of something just because I’ve been too chickenshit to ask him out this whole time? It’s not fair.”

Matt shakes his head but puts a placating hand on Shiro’s shoulder. A moment of silence passes between the two of them, and Shiro knows Matt’s going to tell him that he made the right choice, that he’s been acting childish this whole time and he was just waiting for Shiro to learn his lesson on his own. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Takashi Shirogane.”

Shiro is taken aback by the bluntness of Matt’s words, but before he can ask any questions, Matt turns and heads out of the bar and into the back room, shaking his head the entire way.

 

\+ + +

 

Shiro begins wiping down the bar at 1:58, ready to finally close up for the night. Matt had tallied up his tips and gave Shiro a cordial pat on the back before heading home for the night. The last stragglers headed out ten minutes ago when Last Call was announced, leaving Shiro alone in the low light of Atlas.

He doesn’t mind the quiet, or the loneliness, if he’s being honest. After being flooded with patrons all evening, the silent bar allows him to center his mind and refocus before he has to drag himself back home to sleep. Matt sometimes teases Shiro for using most of that time to moon and fantasize about his latest interaction with Keith, but tonight is different. Tonight, Shiro has to prepare his heart to begin the work of letting Keith go.

It shouldn’t be hard. Not really. After all, Keith wasn’t his to begin with. It was random happenstance that brought them together, and in the end, all they are to each other is a bartender and his patron. Nothing more, nothing less. 

The door to the Atlas swings open, letting in a gust of cold winter air. Shiro groans internally at himself – he forgot to lock the door after Last Call.

“Hey, sorry. We’re closed,” he leans over the bar to address the newcomer. “Last Call was at—” 

Keith pulls the hood of his jacket off from his hair, brushing the few stray snowflakes onto the hardwood floor below. The smirk he sends Shiro’s way is heart-stopping, and he can help but think how adorable Keith looks with his nose red from the cold. “Sorry,” Keith breathes, his voice the perfect juxtaposition of light and rough, “I can come back tomorrow— 

“No!” Shiro responds instantly, desperate to remain in the man’s presence as long as possible. “I mean, it’s totally fine. I thought you were… someone else. That’s all.”

Keith shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket but doesn’t take a step closer. “Right. Cool."

“Yeah.”

The silence between the two of them is deafening. They’re only on opposite sides of the room, but Shiro feels as if there’s a massive gulf between them. He was fully prepared to let his growing feelings for Keith go. But now he’s staring at the object of his affection from across a room, and he has no idea how to proceed.

“So…” Keith starts, taking a step towards the bar. “Can I get a drink?” Shiro finds his head moving of its own accord to nod, and Keith’s eyes brighten as he pulls a bar stool out from underneath the counter and sits. He crosses his arms and leans them on top of the counter, looking up at Shiro through his bangs. He grins. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Shiro’s voice is breathier than he intends, standing closer to Keith than he’s been allowed to all night, even with a bar top dividing them. “What happened to your date?”

“What date?” Keith cocks his head to the side.

“The guy you came in with earlier. James?” Shiro busies his hands with cleaning a glass to avoid eye contact. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear Keith wax rhapsodically about his new boyfriend to Shiro’s face.

Keith chuckles and runs a hand through his thick tresses of hair. “James and I aren’t dating.”

_What?_

Shiro feels a shock of electricity run through him at the words. He’s not entirely sure how to reconcile them with what he witnessed all night. But Keith is looking up at him, waiting for Shiro to fill the silence, and the only thing that he can find it in himself to say is a meek, “Oh.”

Keith smiles and rests his chin in his hand. “Yeah. Oh.” He nods towards the bottles of alcohol displayed behind Shiro. “So, are you going to pour a drink or am I gonna have to climb over there and do it myself?”

There are approximately a thousand different thoughts buzzing in Shiro’s head right now, all to do with how he suddenly needs to readjust and compensate for Keith suddenly _being single_ , but Shiro finds it in himself to push all raging emotions aside, put on a professional face, and smile cheerily back at Keith. “What are you thinking?”

Keith’s smirk is hot and dangerous. “How about a Blow Job?”

Shiro’s heart stops.

His hearing must have gone. Or he’s hallucinating. Or Matt somehow poisoned him before he left for the night and Shiro’s in the middle of a very realistic fever dream. He feels like his brain has stopped working, like the synapses that run any thought process have shorted out and he’s nothing but a shell of a human disaster. He gapes at Keith, who only blinks owlishly back at him as if he didn’t just ask for a blow job out of the fucking blue.

“What.” Shiro says as intelligently as possible.

Keith smiles, “A Blow Job. You know, the shot?”

“Oh.” Right. Of course. Shiro’s just a colossal idiot. Of course, Keith just wants one of his sexually charged cocktails. That’s his thing, after all. And that’s Shiro’s thing too. Serving cocktails. Shiro laughs to himself and turns his back to Keith, grabbing a bottle of Amaretto and Bailey’s off of the shelf. He places them on the bar, kneels down to the fridge to pull out some whipped cream, and grabs a single shot glass from the drying rack. Keith eyes the glass.

“C’mon, Shiro. You’re not gonna let me take one all by myself, are you?”

Shiro looks down at the counter, then back at Keith. He chuckles. “Oh no. Can’t drink while I’m still on the job, man. And if you’re still ordering, then I’m still working,” He spins the bottle of Amaretto in his hand with a flourish and fills half the glass, then grabs a spoon to layer the Bailey’s on top. Finishing the drink off with a peak of whipped cream, Shiro places the shot carefully in front of Keith.

Keith simply pouts and pushes the glass away. “I’m gonna feel like a total loser if I down that by myself. I’ll pay for it, Shiro, I swear. Besides, you’ve had a long day. You deserve to let loose every once in a while.”

“Keith –”

“Shiro.” Keith fixes him with a hard look, and Shiro knows that he’s done for. He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically but pulls out another glass all the same.

“ _Fine.”_ He pours a second shot identical to the one before, and as he puts away the whipped cream, he reaches out for his own shot glass. “Mazel Tov.”

“Wait!” Keith grabs his wrist, stopping the glass from touching Shiro’s lips. He looks down at Keith with a furrowed brow, but the other man simply smiles up at him. “We’ve got to do it properly. Come over here,” he pats the bar stool next to him, and the earnest nature of Keith’s excitement is the only thing that tempts Shiro to round the bar to the seating area. He takes a seat on the offered stool, and Keith swivels his around to face Shiro, grabbing one of the shot glasses. “Remember, you have to drink a Blow Job shot with no hands.” And with that, Keith sets the shot between his own legs, pressing his thighs together to hold it in place.

Shiro doesn’t know what an aneurysm feels like, but he imagines it might be something close to this. Here he is, sitting across from the hottest man he’s ever known with a fucking _Blow Job shot_ balanced near his crotch, and somehow, he’s expected to keep some semblance of composure as he attempts to drink said shot without the use of his hands. He’s not nearly drunk enough to handle this sort of insanity. Nor is he dignified enough to not get hard at the mere thought of his mouth anywhere near the vicinity of Keith’s dick.

Keith’s watching him with an expectant look, his smile lopsided and eyes challenging. Shiro wants to lose himself in the depths of those eyes. There’s a pink flush on Keith’s cheekbones, and Shiro isn’t sure whether it’s from the previous alcohol, the cold outside, or something else entirely. He thinks it might be something else. Because as impossible as it seemed weeks and weeks ago, Shiro is starting to think that maybe Keith likes him back. That the heat Shiro feels between them when they talk and joke around isn’t exclusive to him. That maybe Keith’s going out on a limb and risking it all in the one way that he knows both of them will understand. That maybe if all else fails and Keith’s mistaken, they can laugh it off and pretend it never happened.

But Shiro wants it to happen. And he’ll be damned if he makes Keith feel like he’s being rejected in any way.

Shiro gives Keith a comforting smile, his eyes soft and longing, and dutifully crosses his hands behind his back. He keeps his eyes on Keith’s as he bends forward towards his lap, looking down to fit his mouth around the rim of the shot glass, whipped cream hitting his taste buds. He can feel Keith’s body shift and freeze all over, and Shiro swears he can see the line of Keith’s dick twitch through the fabric of his jeans. A shiver runs down Shiro’s spine at the thought, and he pulls himself upright, knocking the shot the rest of the way back and down his throat.

He takes the shot glass out of his mouth, a satisfied smirk spread wide across his face. Keith’s face is as red as his leather jacket, and Shiro takes the moment to feel smug for knocking him off his axis. “There. No hands.” He raises his hands up and wiggles his fingers teasingly. Keith flushes harder, and narrows his eyes.”

“Show off.”

Shiro laughs. “Hey, you’re the one who set out the rules. I’m just following along,” he shrugs and grabs the second shot and balances it between his thighs, a new wave of confidence swelling inside of him. He smirks back at Keith and nods to the shot in a challenge. “Think you can do it?”

Keith rolls his eyes, “Of course I can, old timer. Watch and learn.”

He runs his hands through his hair, gathering it up and back and pulling a hair tie from his wrist to tie up in a messy bun and _oh shit_ , Shiro should not find that as attractive as he does. But Keith knows what he’s doing, and instead of putting his hands behind his back, he rests them on either side of Shiro’s thighs, the touch practically burning through Shiro’s slacks. He can feel the heat rising in his entire body from just that touch alone, and as Keith leans down, he feels as though he’s going to combust.

Keith noses the seam of Shiro’s pants as he makes his way up to the shot glass, and Shiro’s entire being is on fire. He watches as Keith’s delicate lips wrap around the rim of the shot glass, biting down on his own tongue to make sure he doesn’t let out a moan at the sight of the other man between his legs. As Keith mouths around the shot glass, his arches his back, giving Shiro a perfect view of the elegant line that leads down to his pert ass. Shiro’s cock twitches. He’s losing his fucking mind. 

With the grace of a dancer, Keith bends up and back towards his stool, drinking the rest of the shot down before taking it out of his mouth and back onto the counter. He smiles triumphantly back at Shiro, a single smear of whipped cream still lingering on his top lip, the appearance far more inappropriate than it has any right to be.

“Uh,” Shiro breathes, then clears his voice, “You’ve got some whipped cream… 

“Oh, where?” Keith runs his tongue down his bottom lip, missing the cream entirely.

And Shiro’s never been very bold, but Keith makes him feel like he can conquer anything. So he does.

“Here,” Shiro wraps his hand around Keith’s neck and pulls towards him, crashing their lips together. Keith’s hand immediately fall back onto Shiro’s thighs and grip tightly, a moan escaping from Keith’s mouth. Shiro catches the stray whipped cream as his licks deeper into Keith’s mouth, and his roaming hands tangle themselves into Keith’s hair, loosening the tie that held it back. The kiss is wet and sloppy, and tastes like almonds and cream, and Shiro is completely intoxicated by Keith’s entire being. Keith’s hands begin to roam up Shiro’s body, pulling him in closer as his arms wrap around Shiro’s back. There’s a shift in movement, and before Shiro can comment, he finds himself with a lapful of Keith straddling his thighs, pressing their chests against one another.

Feeling bold, Shiro grabs onto Keith’s ass and breaks from his mouth, only to begin peppering kiss down the length of his chin and neck, sucking bruises into his collarbone. Keith keens.

“Shit, Shiro,” Keith whines, breathing heavy as he drags his nails down Shiro’s shirt, “You’ve got no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Shiro chuckles into his skin, “I’ve got a bit of an idea.” He leans forward and catches Keith’s mouth in another bruising kiss, slotting their lips to fit perfectly together. Keith shifts his hips, and Shiro groans at the sensation, every nerve ending firing at the closeness of Keith.

Keith pulls away from the kiss to look Shiro in the eye, his smile dazzling. “Hey, I’ve got another drink request,” he teases, and Shiro groans into his jacket. 

“Please don’t ruin the moment, Keith. I’m officially off of work.”

Keith’s laugh is bright and full of life, “No, no, no, I swear, you’re gonna like this one.”

With a roll of his eyes, Shiro looks up at the man sitting in his lap. “What is it?”

Indigo eyes light up with mischief. “Screaming Sex With The Bartender.”

Shiro smirks.

“I think I can do that for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Drink along with the fic!  
>  **Suck, Bang, and Blow:** 5 oz strawberry daiquiri mix, 1 oz peppermint liquor, 2 oz Goldschlager, 1 oz Jegermeister, 1 oz Hypnotiq, 1 oz Smirnoff vodka, 1 oz Absolute Citron, 1 cup sugar, 2 cup cranberry juice, 1 oz triple sec, 1 lime, 3 oz Jose Cuervo, 1 oz orange flavored gin.  
>  **Slow Comfortable Screw:** 1 1/2 oz Southern Comfort, 1/2 oz Bourbon whiskey, 3 1/2 oz orange juice, 1/2 oz Sloe Gin.  
>  **Cement Mixer:** 1 part lime juice, 1 part Bailey's Irish Cream. Served either as a layered shot or two shots you shoot together.  
>  **Buttery Nipple:** 1 oz butterscotch schnapps, 1/2 oz Bailey's Irish Cream.  
>  **Zombie Brain:** 1 part peach schnapps, 1 part creme de menthe, 1 part grenadine, all layered on top of each other. With a spoon, drizzle 1 part Bailey's overtop so it curdles in the glass.  
>  **Smoker's Cough:** 1 oz Jagermeister, 1 spoonful of mayonnaise.  
>  **Hot Mexican Hooker:** 1 oz tequila, 1 oz tuna fish juice, dashes of hot sauce  
>  **Blow Job:** 1/2 oz Amaretto, 1/2 oz Bailey's Irish Cream, top with whipped cream. Shoot without using hands, shot held between legs of friend.  
>  **Screaming Sex With The Bartender:** 1 oz Rum (151 proof), 1 oz strawberry schnapps, 1 oz vodka, 2 dashes cranberry juice, fill with orange juice.


End file.
